


not a victory march

by chocobos



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:37:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello cuties</p>
<p>this fic was written for the fic of victory challenge, for the prompt: 'baberoe college!au. babe is a freshman and roe is a junior (obviously a med student). roe is really aloof and everything, and because he's in the same year as guarnere, bill warns babe off him because he thinks roe won't be interested. of course, babe doesn't listen to him, and he soon proves bill very, very wrong. i'd like this to be nice and fluffy!'</p>
<p>this is for liz, aka bastognes, who ironically enough is a friend of mine. I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS DUDE, i'm so sorry it's so short and probably glaring with plotholes. as you know i actually put this off until the last minute because I OBVIOUSLY HATE MYSELF and you really do deserve better fic. hopefully one day when i have more time to write this i can add a bunch of little ficlets because i do actually love the universe this is set in!!!</p>
<p>ALSO LIZ THIS WAS SO HARD TO HIDE FROM YOU OH MY GOD I WANTED TO TELL YOU SO OFTEN JUST SO I COULD MAKE SURE YOU WOULD LIKE IT....so that being said i hope u like this. i really loved the prompts you gave for the challenge and i tried to stick to it as much as i could..... that being said also, this is not your birthday fic i was referring to, which i am still working on, but</p>
<p>that being said, this is considered a wip. i hope to have chapter 2 up by the end of next weekend, but i can't promise anything!!!</p>
    </blockquote>





	not a victory march

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iphigenias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphigenias/gifts).



> hello cuties
> 
> this fic was written for the fic of victory challenge, for the prompt: 'baberoe college!au. babe is a freshman and roe is a junior (obviously a med student). roe is really aloof and everything, and because he's in the same year as guarnere, bill warns babe off him because he thinks roe won't be interested. of course, babe doesn't listen to him, and he soon proves bill very, very wrong. i'd like this to be nice and fluffy!'
> 
> this is for liz, aka bastognes, who ironically enough is a friend of mine. I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS DUDE, i'm so sorry it's so short and probably glaring with plotholes. as you know i actually put this off until the last minute because I OBVIOUSLY HATE MYSELF and you really do deserve better fic. hopefully one day when i have more time to write this i can add a bunch of little ficlets because i do actually love the universe this is set in!!!
> 
> ALSO LIZ THIS WAS SO HARD TO HIDE FROM YOU OH MY GOD I WANTED TO TELL YOU SO OFTEN JUST SO I COULD MAKE SURE YOU WOULD LIKE IT....so that being said i hope u like this. i really loved the prompts you gave for the challenge and i tried to stick to it as much as i could..... that being said also, this is not your birthday fic i was referring to, which i am still working on, but
> 
> that being said, this is considered a wip. i hope to have chapter 2 up by the end of next weekend, but i can't promise anything!!!

Babe was pretty sure this wasn’t how freshman year was supposed to go.

He remembers it being talked about at all of the seminars they forced him into right before he graduated high school, remembers them in vivid, horrifying detail, but they never mentioned anything like  _this_. Babe doesn't feel like he's having the time of his life, most days. He can count the number of times he's felt prepared for college on a single hand, and on the worst days he feels like he's drowning.

Bill says that it's normal, that every freshman feels lost and like the ground has been snatched from under them, but Babe doesn't find it the least bit reassuring. The system failing students shouldn't be a comfort. If anything, it just happens to make it worse. 

“You’re gonn’a get lost in that head of yours,” Bill snarks.

Babe flips him off. “I ain’t doin’ no such thing,” he says.

Bill is insufferable, a junior, and has been Babe's best friend since he was in diapers. It's only by chance that they ended up at the same college, Babe going back and forth between a few scattered all throughout the country, eventually settling on Rutgers because of how close it was to home and they had the best engineering program out of all the schools he was accepted to.

“You would if I left you to it for long enough,” Bill grins, and settles down next to him on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah,” Babe says, good-naturedly enough, and reaches for the remote.

Bill slaps his hand away. “It’s my turn to control the TV, sweetheart.”

“You’re the worst,” Babe informs him, matter-of-fact, and pretend it isn’t cheapened by the way Bill laughs in his face.

 

\---

 

Babe’s days go like this:

He wakes up after the fourth (or tenth) shrill call of his alarm, reaching blearily to shut the damn thing off, and contemplates his life choices for a good solid ten minutes before he even thinks about leaving his cocoon of blankets. Once he's up and moving, he clambers into the shower, bumping into walls and doors and usually tripping over whatever he left out the night before. He rinses, brushes his teeth, grabs whatever there is in the cabinets for breakfast if he has the time, and then hops on the subway to get into campus.

Babe’s mornings are quiet. He likes the quiet.

It is, he swears after, probably the reason everything changes.

 

\---

 

A few days later, Babe wakes up earlier than normal and decides to treat himself.

He's nothing near a morning person, never has been, so when he wakes up on Tuesday before the sun has even come up, he's equal parts surprised and happy about it. Instead of instilling healthy sleeping habits like he expected, college completely throws them into limbo. Babe's just a freshman now, but he realized a long time ago that sleep isn't a necessity here. It's a luxury.

(He always leaves _that_ part out of the weekly phone calls back home.)

Despite being up so early, he's in a good mood, made even better by the fact that Bill had the foresight to leave cinnamon rolls on the counter. They're just how Babe likes them, big and fluffy and absolutely smothered in cream icing. He totally doesn't make an indecent sound at the sight of them.

Babe can't help the grin, though, mostly because no one is around to actually see him  _smiling at cinnamon rolls_ , and promptly shoves three of them into his mouth. 

They're as delicious as he had feared, and his fingers are already twitching for another one. 

"I love college," he says to the cinnamon rolls, after.

He even leaves a couple for Bill. Babe is nothing if not a model roommate.

 

\---

 

There’s this coffee shop just off of campus that Babe has never been to before. Their prices are ridiculous, their drink names even more so, but he sees a bunch of the hipster students from some of his classes do homework there after class sometimes.

Babe has always wanted to go, and he doesn't see a reason not to now. It's been a good morning, a morning he hasn't had since high school, and he'll be damned if he's not going to go in there and get disgustingly expensive coffee (Bill left out the cinnamon rolls, Babe thinks, they don't count whatsoever.)

The inside is even more crowded than he expected. There are red-brick walls that remind him of Philly, and the main room is cramped with oversized chairs and bookshelves filled with obscure coffee brews and metal cups. Tables and chairs are shoved into every possible nook and cranny by the windows, and the baristas are already smiling at him even though he's at the back of a pretty long line. He loves it immediately.

Babe's about to go to the counter to order some coffee that he'll cry about later, when he's had the chance to think about it, that is, when he runs into a wall. The wall wasn't there earlier, he's sure, he would've  _noticed_ \-- he's not that sleep deprived -- and he falls the ground with a very dignified welp. He doesn't even have time to stop himself.

“Shit,” Babe grunts, from the floor. Coming in here had been a bad idea. Why does Babe ever go along with his own plans? They all end up fucking horribly.

“Are you alright?” The Not-Wall asks, and Babe grimaces at the floor.

It wasn't a wall. Interesting. It was a man, a man that Babe is probably going to have to compensate with coffee to apologize for running into him in the first place, and Babe's good morning melts into the floor around him. He should've just went to class as normal, and dealt with whatever cheap brew Bill has forced on him this week. He sits there for a while more, moping, and then he looks up. 

“Oh god,” Babe whispers, mainly to himself. The guy he ran into is staring at him in concern, eyebrows drawn together. His pretty pink mouth is curved downwards into a frown, though that might just be his face, Babe thinks, and his hair is pulled back into a navy blue beanie, a couple strands falling into his face.

It’s quite possible Babe is dreaming this entire encounter, but then again he doubts his mind could actually come up with someone _this_ attractive.

Babe wonders the merits of sinking even further into the floor in an attempt to escape, but the guy already looks three seconds away from calling an ambulance, so he doesn’t. “I’m sorry, oh god. I’m so sorry,” Babe manages.

The guy just looks amused, and instead of answering, he holds out his hand.

Babe stares at it. “Uh.”

“Take the damn hand,” The guy is still not-smiling, at least, which Babe counts as a blessing. He’s not quite sure he’d be able to have the same attitude about this, and that's what makes him eventually take it. Babe ran into him, the least he can do is hold his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Babe says, again. He licks his lips as the guy pulls him to his feet. “Let me buy you a coffee. For, you know, infringing on your personal space and all.”

The guy looks like he’s going to refuse, but then his mouth twitches, and he nods. “Black.”

“You got it,” Babe grins, or tries to, at least. He’s still blushing too much for it to work out completely, and heads to the front counter.

Bill, Babe thinks, is never finding out about this.

(Babe can already hear his laughter echoing in his head. It wouldn’t be pleasant experience.)

 

\---

 

Babe doesn’t see him again for a few weeks.

He almost forgets about it. Babe runs into people pretty frequently, sees attractive people even more so, and he tries not to think about it all that much. If he concentrated on every single embarrassing moment he's ever had, he would drop out of school and head off into the mountains somewhere to avoid human interaction. 

Babe thinks it’s starting to sound more and more appealing.

(Bill would definitely kill him, probably, but it’s tempting. Babe likes the idea a little too much, which is why he never talks about it.)

He's reaching into his pockets for his student card when he realizes he doesn't even have it. Babe must've left it on the counter back at home, and he -- barely -- resists the urge to slam his hands against the glass like a petulant child. He doesn't have enough time to go home and get it, not tonight. Babe has to work on a paper he should've started weeks ago, but didn't because he procrastinates on everything and he figured he'd remember to do it  _before_ it came to camping out at the campus library all night to finish it.

Babe didn’t. He doesn’t know why he does this to himself. Everyone knows Babe’s memory is completely shot to hell.

He stares at the door for a few more moments, like it’ll open from the pure desperation in his gaze alone, and is about to turn back around to go home, resigning himself to a night of working through whatever nonsense Bill blares through the TV this time, when he sees him.

Coffee Shop Guy is leaning up against the far side of the building, the light of a cigarette illuminating his face. He’s just as attractive as Babe remembers, and he hides a disgruntled noise into the collar of his hoodie.

Babe had just figured he was hallucinating said man’s hotness.

He wasn't.

Before Babe can talk himself out of it, he walks over, one hand tightly wrapped around the strap of his backpack, and the other shoved deep into his the pocket of his jeans to try and draw attention away from how nervous he is about this.

“Hey,” Babe says, when he’s close enough. “I know I’m not someone you want to see, which I don’t blame you for, but I forgot my student card at home. Could, uh, could you maybe let me in--”

“Sure.”

Babe doesn't hear him. “‘Cause I got this monster of a paper, and it’s kickin' my _ass_ , and I’d rather not to be subjected to my roommate’s shitty taste in television.”

The guy looks amused again, and puts his cigarette out on the side of the building. He waits a few seconds, presumably for it to cool, before he shoves it into one of his pockets. Babe hopes he’s not blinking as owlishly at him as he thinks he is.

“I gott'a go in anyway, to finish a paper.”

“Thanks,” Babe says. He has to turn away, so he walks over to the door.

The guy is wearing that same damn beanie again, the navy blue bringing out the color of his eyes, even under the glow of the moon, and Babe seriously can't handle that right now. He doesn't think anyone could blame him, not really, because sickeningly attractive people who wear stupid beanies are difficult to take in large doses. 

After they’re inside, Babe turns around to thank him again at the same time that the guy says, “Wann’a get a table together? It’s gonn’a be busy.”

Babe blinks. “Uh, yeah.” He clears his throat, and the guy is kind enough not to comment on it. “Yeah. Alright.”

The guy’s mouth twitches at the corners, and he nods, walking off. Babe only stares at his retreating back for three seconds before he follows.

(He’s prouder of this than he should be.)

  


\---

 

“I’m Babe,” Babe says, after they’ve been working together in silence for about twenty minutes. “Babe Heffron.”

The guy raises his eyebrows. He looks equally unimpressed as he does disbelieving. “Your ma named you Babe.”

“My first name is blasphemous,” Babe answers, passionately, and is surprised when the guy next to him lets out a chuckle.

He sort of wants to hear it again immediately.

“I’m Gene,” Gene introduces. Babe averts his gaze to the table so he can practice the weight of Gene’s name in his mouth, and smiles down at the scratched surface like a loser. The more he looks at it, the more the scratching looks like an extremely deformed penis.

Babe loves college.

“Nice to meet ya, Gene,” Babe says, and hopes he isn’t as red as he feels. “Not gonna lie, it got kind of exhausting calling you ‘that guy’ in my head all of the time.”

Gene turns back to his paper, but the corners of his mouth aren’t turned down as much as they usually are -- has Babe really stared at him so much in their two encounters that he’s memorized the resting angle of his mouth? He hopes not -- and he buries his smile into the outline of his paper.

 

\---

 

There’s a cup of coffee in his face.

Babe doesn’t remember coffee being in his face.

“Uh,” he says to it, and when it doesn’t disappear, he hesitantly reaches out his hand.

“It ain’t poisoned,” Gene says, breathing out a huff that sounds distinctly like laughter.

“I’d hope not,” Babe says, still cautious. “Why is there coffee in front of me?”

“It’s been four hours.”

“Oh,” Babe says, and looks at the document on his computer. He’s only about halfway finished, and the paper is due in a few hours. “Shit.”

He scrubs a hand over his face, just nearly resisting slamming his head against the desk repeatedly in frustration. He sincerely hates the whole not sleeping thing. 

"Thanks, man," Babe says, when the silence has stretched on for too long and Gene is staring at him with that same concerned expression from the coffee shop. He tries not to flush under it, but it's useless. Babe's accepted that he probably will never stop blushing around him. "I guess we're kind'a even now, huh?"

"I didn't run into you," Gene points out, and looks back at his papers before Babe can gawk awkwardly at him.

  
\---  
  


He gets home that morning just after sunrise, with a finished paper already sent off to his professor, and such an intense urge for sleep he honestly considered sleeping on the subway home. 

Gene had left an hour before he had, claiming he had to be up early for one of his pre-med classes -- Babe wasn't as surprised as he thought he would be when Gene told him this, it just seemed to fit the other man -- and he sounded apologetic about it, like he actually would've stayed there and kept Babe company if he could. It fills him with intense warmth every time he thinks about it.

Bill is lounging on the couch, clicking through shitty morning television and news channels they never even bother to watch. Babe grunts in acknowledgement, and throws his bag on the counter. He throws himself on the couch, ending up half sprawled across his best friend, half hanging off the couch, and sighs. Bill makes a disagreeable noise, but luckily doesn't push him off, just sinks down further to get more comfortable.

"You lucky I ain't a worryin' type or I would be deeply offended right now," Bill says, once he's figured out Babe isn't inclined to say anything.

Babe snorts. "You once tore half'a Philly apart 'cause I didn't answer your text message."

Bill glares at him. "I sent  _twenty-five_ texts, you bastard."

"Whatever," Babe waves him off. "The point is, you're the worryin' type."

"Uh huh," Babe agrees, not sounding it at all, and says, "Where were ya? At your first college party?"

"I could use some alcohol right now," Babe says, and expertly dodges the slap Bill aims for the back of his head. "I was at the damn library. I forgot about a paper."

"I'm not even surprised, Babe," Bill grins. Babe steals the remote when he isn't looking to get back at him, and changes it to cartoons. 

"Babe--"

"No." Babe grunts. "I've been up for thirty-five hours, and I'm gonn'a watch some fuckin' cartoons."

He must sound as pathetic as he suspects, because Bill doesn't even fight him on it, just grumbles faintly about decaying brain cells and wasted time.

Babe grins.

 

\---

 

He lasts four days before he asks Bill about Gene.

This time he doesn't forget about him. Maybe it's because Babe knows his name this time, or maybe it's because no matter how hard Babe tries, he can't seem to stop thinking about him, but he remembers. 

The thing is, Bill knows everybody.

Babe doesn't know how Bill knows everybody; their school is massive, the student body diverse and booming, but he does. Bill's always been a people person, they both have always been people person, so he shouldn't be all that surprised, but knowing every from their high school is different than knowing everyone in  _college_.

"So," Babe starts, and throws his legs over Bill's so he can't escape. "I have a question."

Bill glowers at him. "Fuckin' get off me."

"Then you might run away," Babe points out. Bill does that sometimes. Now that Babe thinks about it, maybe this is why. "If I take my legs off, are you gonn'a run?"

"Babe."

"Fine," Babe says, and folds his legs underneath himself. "Can I ask my question now?"

"You're gonn'a anyway, I don't know why you do this  _every time._ "

Bill's right. Babe would just annoy him into submission until the other man eventually talked to him. "I met this guy," Babe starts, and doesn't finish.

"You met a guy," Bill says flatly. "Congratulations. I do that daily. You're growin' up."

Babe huffs, annoyed. "No, I  _met_ a guy." 

Bill perks up. "Shit. Seriously?" He looks more into the conversation than before, and Babe scowls at him for it.

"Yeah," Babe says, and hopes he isn't grinning as thinks he is. "His name's Gene. He's pre-med."

His best friend sits up so fast Babe gets whiplash. "You mean Doc?"

"I guess?" 

"Shit, Babe. He's a  _junior_."

"I know."

"He only cares about his damn schoolwork."

Babe knows what Bill is trying to do here. Bill does something like this every time Babe shows interest in someone, points out personality traits that might come off as negative to try and get Babe not to date them so he doesn't get hurt. Babe thought it was kind of adorable the first time, and slightly irritating the fourth, but now he just outright makes an unimpressed noise at it. Babe isn't going to let Bill ruin this for him. He can do  _that_ all on his own, thanks.

"I ran into him at  _Bossuet's_ a few weeks ago," Babe starts. "He bought me coffee the night I was in the library 'til the crack ass of dawn."

Bill deflates, but still doesn't look happy about it. "I don't like this."

"You don't haf'to," Babe reassures him, and pats him on the shoulder. "'Cause I'm gonn'a do it anyway."

"Of course you are."

"You know, if you keep frownin' like that you're gonn'a get stuck," Babe points out, and dodges yet another attempt on his life from Bill.

Bill doesn't say anything for a few minutes, but Babe doesn't take it personally. Instead, he opens one of the text books on the side table and flips to the chapter he was assigned the previous day. He's a third of the way through when a hand lands on his shoulder.

"Just be careful," says Bill, gruff.

"Always am."

"I don't find that comforting."

"I know," Babe grins, and pats Bill's leg to let him know that he's serious about it.

 

\---

 

Babe's life isn't a romantic comedy, so he doesn't see Gene for a while after that.

He tries not to be bothered by it, because of course it wasn't going to be that simple. Gene wasn't going to appear out of nowhere and make it easy for him, which was to be expected. 

Babe finds a job at the end of September. It's in the campus bookstore, the pay is shit, but the free textbooks while he's employed there are not, and he doesn't hate it as much as he thought he would. Mainly, he just stands at the front desk and tries to look vaguely helpful. So far, it's working out pretty well.

It's a late shift, the inventory still has to be done, and Babe's seriously contemplating closing early so he doesn't stumble out at two in the morning like last week. He's just about to fire off a text to Winters to see if it would be alright, because of Babe's three bosses, Winters is the most understanding and the least eccentric, but the chime above the door goes off. He stares morosely at his phone instead of greeting the customer like he should. 

(Nixon will  _probably_ laugh himself dry when he watches the security footage, later.)

"Wasn't expectin' to see you here," A very familiar voice says above him.

Babe looks up. "Gene," he breathes. "I work here."

"You are behind 'he counter," Gene points out, but his eyes are smiling at him. Was Gene's voice always this warm? Babe really can't remember. It's been way too long.

"Maybe this is all an elaborate ruse," Babe offers, but the shit-eating grin on his face completely betrays his statement. He should work on his pokerface more. It really is next level embarrassing.

"Uh huh," Gene says, agreeing, and puts a list on the counter between them. "Do y'got these books in stock?" 

Right. Gene isn't here to chat. "Let me check," Babe says, and picks up the paper. They're all medical journals and documents Babe's never even heard of, which makes sense. He types them into the computer, taking a pen from the jar on the left and marking the ones they have and where they could be found. "We have four of 'em. The other two are on backorder."

Gene looks vaguely disappointed, which means his expression doesn't really change at all. "D'you know when those'll be here?"

Babe shrugs. "A few days to a few weeks," he says, and then bites on his lip. "They could be in the back. I gott'a do inventory later." He has no idea why he says this, but it might have something to do with the way his heart is thundering in his chest. 

"Alright," Gene grunts, and fishes the pen from Babe's fingers and tears off a corner to write something down. "S'my email. Can 'ou let me know when they're in?"

Babe nods. "Yeah," he says, and then, before he can bite on his lips hard enough, "If you want to stay, I can see if I have 'em in the stock we got tonight." 

His mouth is moving without checking in with his brain first. Gene doesn't say anything, so he continues, "I gott'a add 'em to the system before you take them."

"Sounds like a lott'a trouble."

It would be a lot of trouble, and Babe would curse himself in the morning when he had to wake up for his 8 AM class, but he finds he actually doesn't mind doing it in the first place. Babe likes being around him. Gene isn't all that talkative, but his presence is oddly soothing, and Babe is constantly avoiding latching on to him for it. He's just glad he hasn't yet crawled into Gene's lap yet. 

"I don't mind," says Babe.

Gene seems to believe him, because he nods, and looks around taps a finger back against the paper. "Alright," Gene agrees. "Alright."

Babe pretends he isn't pleased about this, glad he can turn away to find the books so Gene doesn't have to see him beam at him like an idiot.

 

\---

 

Closing down the bookstore is easier when there's an extra pair of hands. 

Babe had protested to Gene helping at first, because it wasn't Gene's job, and Babe felt awful about it, but Gene had just leveled him with another one of his looks, equal parts determined and unimpressed. 

"Thanks," Babe says, after everything is where it's supposed to be. He glances over at the clock to see that they're even ahead of schedule, and tilts his head towards the back. "You can come back there with me. If you wann'a. S'gonna take me a while to work through all the boxes."

Gene nods. "I just gott'a drop these off at my 'partment first."

"I'll leave the back door unlocked for you." Babe tries not to sound disappointed. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't expect Gene to come back. He doesn't say this, of course, just watches Gene's retreating back with something that feels a lot like rejection. 

College is the  _worst_.

 

\---  


Babe really doesn't expect Gene to come back.

It's not like he would exactly  _blame_ him for it either. The clock is ticking fast and while they finished early, the life of a med student isn't a quiet one. Babe thinks his course load is ridiculous sometimes but he doesn't even want to have to consider what Gene puts up with.

He's just finished sorted through the stock they had accumulating back here for a few days. They have the other two books Gene was looking for, the only two editions in the whole pile, and Babe pretends that it doesn't make his throat close up.

Babe sets them aside, making a note to put them into the system first on the off chance that Gene does decide to come back tonight instead of coming in at another time. He's so busy entering the barcodes into the computer that he doesn't hear the back door open, doesn't even realize that there's another person in the room until a throat clears behind him and there's warm, amazing coffee being shoved into his hands. It's from the 24-hour shop off of campus. Babe tries not to melt into the floor.

"You didn't haft'a."

"I know," is all Gene says, though Babe is almost positive he's hiding a smile into the rim of his coffee cup.

Babe takes a drink from the coffee and tries not to die right there. It's exactly how he likes it. He has no idea how Gene knows his coffee order, but he's certainly not going to complain about it.

"We have your books," Babe says, after he's spent way too long staring into his drink. "Already entered 'em in the system and everythin' so you can go ahead and buy them."

Gene smiles at him, and wraps his fingers around Babe's wrist when he reaches over to grab them for Gene. "Thank 'ou." 

 

\---

 

Babe is going through a crisis.

He tries to deal with it silently. Having a crisis in college is pretty much mandatory at least once, especially for freshman, so if they see some young kid walking around morosely and chewing a new hole into his lip, everyone is conditioned enough in it not to say anything. Babe has always had a harder time asking for help, and he's never really had to. Bill was loud and strong enough in his convictions about Babe's moods, which means the mope-fest only lasts three days before Bill corners him in the kitchen.

"We need to talk."

 

**Author's Note:**

> some facts:
> 
> * if you spot the les mis reference i love u  
> * does rutgers have a good engineering program? i have no idea. oops. imagine babe at the camden campus bc it is the most visually appealing 2 me lol  
> * one day i will stop using coffee shops as a plot device  
> * i know nothing about college or college libraries so this is probably so inaccurate and i am v v v sorry  
> * i was thinking to myself about how red roe's nose gets when it's cold out and then i pictured him with his cute lil red nose in a fucking beanie and i got obsessed with it and i had to include this in the fic because it is honestly the cutest image imaginable  
> * yes the title is based off of hallelujah bc i have no shame and also the song is perfect for titles if u look hard enough thank u
> 
> ** you can find me on tumblr @ saintaire if u have any questions or just wanna flail to me about our cutie nerd soldier babies :) **


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